


No Exaggeration

by Cascaper



Series: In Kind [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, i am after all rather fond of the discretion cut between scenes, no such caution here tra la, ohoho, ok some caution, well let's get right to that steam shall we?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 10:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16891086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cascaper/pseuds/Cascaper
Summary: The simplest games really are the best, as Haurchefant well knows.





	No Exaggeration

Haurchefant strides through Camp Dragonhead for the umpteenth time, gaze sweeping all before, below and above him. Especially above. 

Thosinund is here somewhere, he knows- it has become a favorite pastime of hers, to be seen arriving and then make him seek her out. This is a fairly modest fortress, with precious few places for a seven-fulm woman with shoulders that could support the very heavens to lie in wait. Somehow, though, she has never hidden in the same place twice. It is maddening and marvelous in equal measure.

Her ability to vanish is, Haurchefant thinks, rather disconcerting. She can lurk like a voidsent on a mission, completely immobile, her head lowered to let bronze-and-copper bangs veil her brilliant eyes. Could it be that he has already passed her? Then he turns one more corner and startles because here,  _here_ she finally is.

Thosinund leans on the corridor wall, shoulder to the stone, arms crossed. One boot rests lightly on its toe while the other is firmly planted. Her cheeky grin gleams in the torchlight, and something yet brighter glints in her gaze. 

“So you’ve found me,” she says, clearly pleased with the success of her game.

“At last, yes.” Has he been walking so swiftly? He finds his breath coming short. 

“You’re getting faster,” she tells him. “I was only waiting a bell and a half.”

He shakes his head, smiling. “One of these days I  _shall_  be the one to see you first.”

She pushes upright and steps toward him. “One of these days,” she agrees, and swoops down to kiss him without further ado.

For a relative novice, Thosinund has taken to the art of kissing with dizzying speed. One hand wraps round the back of his neck, the other cups his face, as she pins him to the wall; her fingers are in his hair and her thumb brushes over his ear in light strokes that make him shiver with want. 

“I missed you,” he mumbles against her lips, tightening his arms about her waist to emphasize the words. It feels as though his veins are full of her light.

“And I missed you,” she breathes, breaking away to dust him with more kisses- forehead, eyebrow, nose, temple, each spot left tingling as though touched with peppermint balm. She ghosts her lips along his jaw, teases his skin with tiny licks of her tongue as she goes. Then the hand that isn’t holding him upright slides down to grip at his ass and he groans, quite unable to help himself. She takes the opportunity to recapture his mouth.  

Some minutes later she pulls back once more, her thigh now wedged between his own. Haurchefant’s head is swimming, his knees shaking. He opens his eyes with effort to find her looking fondly back.

“I ought to…sit down,” he manages, his voice not far above a whisper. “Else I shall collapse on the spot, but I… I do not think I can walk, just at present.” 

Thosinund beams. “Your room’s not far. I’ll carry you.” 

True to her word, she waits only for Haurchefant’s nod of assent before bending and scooping him into her arms. “Comfortable?” she asks. She tightens her grip a little, for security, and then a bit more for no reason but to hear his sharp inhale of delight. (She does many things for that reason.)

“Perfect,” he tells her, and off they go.

Haurchefant knows that the sooner they reach their destination, the sooner they can get back to embracing properly. But Thosinund is just intoxicating. She smells of soap, and sweat, and something slightly floral; it goes straight to his head and he clings to her, peppering kisses everywhere he can reach.

“Stop that,” she protests, snickering. “I’ll drop you before we even get there!”

He tries. He really does. For about fifteen seconds. Then he cannot resist nuzzling into her hair, and she comes to an abrupt halt.

“Well if you can’t behave,” she says, “I’ve no other choice.” She slings him over her shoulders, clasping his limbs like a shepherd with a sheep, and sets off once more. “Teach you to mess with my balance.”

“Ah, my dear,” he gaily replies, “the mere sight of you is enough to throw anyone off balance. Especially at this angle.”

She huffs a laugh. “You dreadful man, you. Just wait.”

When she loosens her hold on him in order to open the door, he reaches to turn the handle with her. And to slide the bolt shut, once they are inside. Next instant they’ve crossed the room, and he is landing on the bed with a bounce.

“The fire…?” he asks, spotting its merry blaze in the hearth.

“Had to pass the time somehow,” she tells him, yanking at her boots and cursing under her breath. “Blasted- things-”

“Let me,” and he slips down to help. Once freed of her footwear, she returns the favor; for the rest, it’s back onto the blankets. Literally, back; Thosinund stretches out and pulls Haurchefant atop her. He is only too happy to fall.

* * *

 There was a time, once, when Coerthas had glorious green summers. Haurchefant still remembers them like a recurring dream, afternoons spent sporting with Francel by the cool river. Dozing on sun-baked rocks til the shifting shade woke them. Feeling, for the moment, naught but carefree and content.

Those days are too long gone. But to lie in Thosinund’s embrace—against the rolling plains of her, against her skin as hot as embers—is to regain a measure of that peace. He nestles his cheek on her shoulder. “Mm…” 

“Hey, now,” she chides. “Don’t go falling asleep on me already.”

“Fear not, love, I shan’t.” He basks a second longer, then raises up to regard her. 

_Gods, what a woman_. Every line of her visage bespeaks her strength and grace: the sweeping curves of her nose and chin, the fringe falling over her brow. And her mouth- her warm, wide, faintly flushed mouth… which now twists slyly to one side under his gaze.

“See something you like?” 

“Indeed… though ‘tis a grave understatement, to say merely ‘like.’” He traces the arc of her ear. “Say rather that I treasure, cherish, madly adore…”

“ _Dreadful_  man,” she laughs. “Overstatement is just as bad.” 

“What overstatement? I hope you know I am sincere.”

“I do know it. Only…” She shakes her head, eyes half closed. “I have heard one too many minstrels’…exaggerations, lately. It feels a little strange to hear their like from you.”

“Then you shall hear no more of them tonight,” he replies. “But what is a poor knight to do, if he cannot sing his lady’s praises? I confess I am at a loss.”  He dips his chin, peering mock-dolefully at her from under his lashes.

“Fear not,” she whispers, grinning. “I have ideas.”

Her nails scratch slowly, deliciously, across his bare hip, sending unutterable pleasure shivering through him. (Truly, no words on earth could adequately convey how good that feels.) She does it again, and he dissolves into her kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally published as two separate, short pieces, titled "Much Ado" and "Unutterable," on my tumblr (rhymingteelookatme). However, they fit much better as a single tale, so I simply sewed them together.


End file.
